The Aether of Night

by Brandon Sanderson

  “Are you?” D’Naa asked with interest.

  Hern shrugged. “As someone pointed out, there’s a war going on. I think my interests should be focused elsewhere.”

  “So you make your potential brides wait?” D’Naa asked, accusingly. “You lead us along, make us sit in a line for your amusement, just so you can put off the decision another week?”

  Hern flushed again. “You seem determined to make this difficult for me,” he noted.

  D’Naa shrugged. “Why not?” she said. “You’re not going to choose me as your bride anyway.”

  “How can you be so certain?” Hern asked.

  D’Naa snorted. “Come now, your majesty. I’m from Kavir—marrying me will give you no political advantage. Besides, didn’t you refer to me as a ‘servant boy, instead of a bride?’ I also seem to recall a comment about men from Kavir preferring sheep to alternatives such as myself.”

  Hern’s head snapped back as if it had been slapped.

  Serves him right, D’Naa thought with satisfaction.

  Hern, however, didn’t rise to the insult. Instead, he regarded her with eyes that seemed oddly soft. “I’m. . .sorry,” he said quietly. “I was under a lot of stress that day. I said things I shouldn’t have—things I most certainly didn’t mean.”

  The music stopped with a shocked D’Naa staring into the eyes of an apologetic Emperor Hern. They stood there for a brief moment before he released her hands and nodded slightly. Still confused, D’Naa backed away toward her chair, where her grandparents were waiting.

  #

  “Darro, I think I’m in trouble,” Raeth said, watching the Kavir girl return to her place.

  Darro raised an eyebrow, turning from the serving girl he had been chatting with and raising his cup to his lips. “Humm?” he asked as he followed Raeth’s gaze with his eyes. “Still stuck on the Kavir girl, are you?”

  “She’s amazing,” Raeth whispered. “The others were all so quiet, so perfect. But D’Naa…she spoke her mind. She thinks the ball is a waste of time.”

  Darro smiled. “That’s certainly a point in her favor,” he noted.

  Raeth nodded, still watching the slender girl through the crowd. She was speaking with an elderly couple and preparing to leave.

  “I couldn’t talk to her, Darro,” Raeth said. “I felt like an idiot. Of course, it didn’t help that she thought I was Hern. Still, everything I said seemed to come out wrong.”

  Darro clapped him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry. You’re just in love—it happens to me two or three times a week.”

  Raeth snorted. “What do you do?”

  “If she’s available, I buy her something nice,” Darro said. “If she isn’t, I go get drunk. Actually, I recommend the ‘getting drunk’ part either way. It’s just plain fun.”

  Raeth rolled his eyes, shaking his head. “Why am I asking you for advice?”

  “I don’t know,” Darro said with a smile, slurping down the rest of his wine. “I’ve been wondering that myself. However, I do know one thing—now that you’re the one choosing, I am going to get Alean, aren’t I?”

  Raeth paused, thinking back to the conversation with Alean. “I don’t intend to have to choose, Darro,” he finally said. “Don’t worry—if I do get forced into it, I’ll take care of you. Let’s go. I want to ask you about the battle this morning.”

  Darro nodded, setting aside his cup and winking at the serving girl. The two prepared to join the crowd of people drifting away from the ball now that Raeth had danced his last dance.

  “My lord?” a hesitant voice said.

  Raeth turned. “Ah, Tarrinon,” he said, pausing. “Thank you for your help today.”

  “It was nothing more than my duty, my lord,” Tarrinon said with a bow of his head.

  “You may go—I think we’re done for the day,” Raeth said. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

  “Yes, my lord,” Tarrinon replied. “Just one thing, my lord,” he said.

  “Yes?” Raeth asked.

  Tarrinon nodded toward the other side of the room. Raeth followed the gesture, frowning. Tarrinon appeared to be motioning toward D’Naa.

  “Just remember, my lord,” Tarrinon said. “You can’t afford to play favorites. If anyone suspects that you’ve already made your choice, they’ll be hesitant to give you concessions without firm promises.”

  Raeth blinked in surprise. “How… ?” he asked.

  “I have a lot of practice noticing such things,” Tarrinon said. “It is my duty to see that monarchs don’t…embarrass themselves. In some ways, your place is less worrisome than most—you have no wife to betray. But, at the same time, you are in a very dangerous position. You can’t afford to alienate any section of the Senate. You don’t have the allies to justify making enemies.”

  Raeth’s eyes flickered toward D’Naa, watching as she left the room. “I see,” he said, frowning. “Thank you for the advice.”

  Tarrinon bowed and backed away. “Remember, my lord,” Tarrinon noted. “You must wait until the Senators and nobility have left before you can depart. You are the last to arrive, so should you be the last to leave.”

  “Annoying little Shenk,” Darro noted as the small man backed away.

  “But very useful,” Raeth replied. “I can see why historians say the Imperium would have collapsed without the Shorriken.”

  Darro shrugged. “As long as he’s bothering you and not me.”

  Raeth stood impatiently, waiting as the other ball-goers left, the brides first. He wanted to speak with Darro about the war, but he held himself back, instead deciding he should bid farewell to each of the Senators and dignitaries in turn. It was monotonous, but he saw Tarrinon nod approvingly at the move. The process took about a half hour, but Raeth suspected it was worth the tedium.

  Eventually, only minstrels, servers, and bureaucrats were left in the room. Raeth nodded one final farewell to Tarrinon, then he and Darro stepped from the ballroom balcony into one of the palace hallways and made their way across mosaic floors and past painted alcoves on their way to the imperial Corpate shaft.

  “Tell me about this morning,” Raeth requested as they walked.

  Darro shrugged. “From what I hear, it looked the same on your side as it did on mine. I was with the main Aedin force—we didn’t know what was happening until the Forgotten were practically on top of us.”

  “You can’t think of anything that might have tipped them off?” Raeth asked as they turned a corner.

  Darro shrugged. “I can think of a dozen things. Maybe they can smell really well, maybe they have supernatural hearing, or maybe they can just see through dirt. No one knows what these things are, Hern.”

  Raeth raised an eyebrow at the use of his brother’s name, but he supposed it made sense, even if the hallway was practically empty. They stepped up to the shaft, where a Corpate climber was already waiting for them, and climbed onto its platform. The Nurturer gave a silent command, and the spider-like Corpate began to climb, placing its feet in niches carved for the purpose. Soon the only light was a pair of lanterns hanging on either side of the Corpate’s platform.

  “The men are worried, Hern,” Darro noted in the dark tunnel. “We don’t know what these things are. They don’t fight very well, but there are a lot of them and they refuse to die like they should. A lot of the men, especially the Shorriken and the Aedin, don’t like the idea of fighting the spirits of their ancestors—even if they are Forgotten.”

  “At least someone’s concerned,” Raeth said with dissatisfaction. “The War Counsel doesn’t seem worried at all.”

  Darro shrugged. “They see pieces on a board; they don’t understand what these things look like, how it feels to fight them.”

  “You think the northern border will hold, like the Counsel promises?” Raeth asked as the opening to the fifth floor passed, the Corpate still climbing.

  “It had better,” Darro said. “It’s where our best defenses are, and it’s also where the Counsel is most
accustomed to fighting.” He paused for a moment. “Yes, I think we’ll hold. There are a lot of the creatures, but not that many. Our men are good—assuming the High Aedin don’t buckle again.”

  Raeth frowned, leaning against the Corpate’s railing. “The High Aedin. How did it happen, Darro? Even if they can cut through Amberite, we shouldn’t have folded that easily.”

  Darro shrugged, shaking his head. “I don’t know, Hern,” he said, his voice growing soft. “Maybe they came on us too quickly—we weren’t ready. But, most of us had our weapons grown already. We should have been able to stand. It’s just that, well, the High Aedin saw a couple of their kind fall, and I think everyone started to panic.”

  Raeth stood thoughtfully.

  The Amberite wants loose. To be free. Freedom. The voice popped into his head, as it had before. Raeth’s head snapped up in surprise.

  What do you mean? He asked. What are you saying?

  Freedom. It is the Night. The Chaos. It wants to be free.

  I don’t understand, Raeth thought with frustration.

  “Hern?” Darro asked, looking at him with concern.

  “Just a moment, Darro,” Raeth said, holding up his hand. Speak to me! Raeth thought. Explain what you mean!

  What.

  Raeth paused. What?

  What, the voice affirmed. What are you? What is this?

  What am I? Raeth asked. I…I’m a person.

  That is what I would be.

  And then it was gone. The Corpate platform shook slightly as the climber stopped beside the doorway to the seventh floor, and Raeth stood for a moment, frowning to himself. Was he going mad? No. He didn’t believe that—the voice in his mind wasn’t his own. It felt like… .

  He looked down at his hand, staring into the Amberite bud set therein. He could barely feel its emotions—his Bond was so weak it was laughable. Yet, the feeling was similar to the voice.

  “Um, Hern,” Darro said uncertainly.

  “I’m fine,” Raeth said, looking up and stepping off the platform. “I just need to spend some time thinking.”

  “All right,” Darro said. The two paused at the intersection in the middle hallway.

  “Really,” Raeth said. “Don’t worry about me.”

  Darro nodded, then turned right to head down the broad hallway toward his rooms. Raeth continued on straight, walking toward Hern’s rooms.

  Something isn’t right, Raeth thought to himself. Something about this entire mess—the Forgotten, the voice, the battle… .

  He shook his head as he continued on. Four guards stood at his doorway, and one stepped forward, saluting as Raeth approached. “This came for you, my lord,” he said, holding forward a package. Raeth accepted it and peeked inside. A book—the Kaennis Sha, the title proclaimed. The book of the Ancestors. Raeth frowned as he regarded it, stepping forward to push open the doors to his chambers. It was thinner than it should be, thinner by a great deal.

  “My lord, there is one other thing. A visitor… .” the guard said as Raeth passed him and walked into the room, regarding the book contemplatively.

  “Hallalen Ken, my Emperor,” a smooth, feminine voice said.

  Raeth looked up with surprise, the door swinging shut behind him. Nahan, the Mahallen bride, stood in the center of his room, her figure illuminated by a single, dim lantern. With graceful fingers, Nahan reached up and untied the shoulder of her silken gown, then let the whole thing drop loosely to the floor.

  Chapter Ten

  “I think I’m ready,” D’Naa said, pulling her facecloth tight.

  Shaad shot her husband a worried look, then turned back to D’Naa. “You’re certain child?” she asked. “You don’t want to spend a few more days to wait for security to die down?”

  “A week is long enough,” D’Naa said. “That ball tonight reminded me that the Aedin aren’t the only ones wasting time. The sooner I get that Bud, the sooner we can abandon all of this foolish bride business and return to Kavir.”

  She said the words firmly, partially to convince herself. The ball had worried her for more than one reason. Hern seemed to enjoy playing with her mind—he’d acted so apologetic, so humble. What was the point? They both knew what he really was. Was he trying to seduce her or gain her favor? Now, more than ever, she was worried that he might actually choose her.

  D’Naa swung up onto the window ledge, her Verdant itching for excitement, and her heart following suit.

  “I’m beginning to wonder at the wisdom of this,” Shaad admitted, holding her husband’s hand with a worried look. “You’re just a child, D’Naa. Ala’D should have sent someone else to do this.”

  A gust of wind blew at D’Naa’s cloak from behind—it was going to be a chilly night. However, a week of practicing her climbing—not to mention a lifetime in the Kavir highlands—had accustomed her to the cold. “I’ll be fine,” she insisted.

  #

  Raeth felt as if his eyes were going to melt. He stood, staring at Nahan, completely dumbfounded. Spending the years of his adolescence in the Irae definitely hadn’t prepared him for the experience of seeing a completely nude Mahallen girl. Well, nude except for her jewelry, he noticed with embarrassment—not that any of it, extensive though it was, covered her.

  Finally, as if in a delayed reaction, the blushing began. Raeth felt his face flush, and he took an apprehensive step backward. “Wha—”

  His voice choked off as Nahan took a step forward, placing herself directly in front of him. She leaned forward, pressing her body against his, looking up at him with a sultry smile. She lay one hand on his shoulder and reached up with the other one, rubbing the gold hoop that circled the back of her right breast.

  “You like them, my lord?” she asked in a soft voice. “They can be yours. Just take them.”

  “Gaaa,” Raeth said, the only word that would come out. Get control of yourself! He told himself. It was an admittedly difficult task with her so close, her perfume tickling his nose, her body pushed against his.

  “I…cannot choose,” he said weakly. “I have to wait until the Ynaa. …”

  “You can choose tonight, my Emperor,” she said, running her fingers across his chin and raising her leg to rub it against his thigh. “We wouldn’t have to tell the rest of the Imperium until later. Just take what belongs to you tonight, and then it will be yours for the rest of our lives.”

  Oh, Twins… . Raeth thought. He’d heard how Mahallen women found husbands, but he hadn’t thought he’d ever be on the receiving end. Gritting his teeth, he placed his hands on her shoulders and pushed her gently away. Then he turned to the side, tearing his eyes away from her naked body and trying to force his brain to begin working again.

  “I will wait for guidance from my father,” he said firmly. “Please, respect that decision, Nahan.”

  He felt her hand on his back, then her body pressed against him again. “But, surely I make a good case for choosing me, my lord. Surely your esteemed father sees that.”

  Raeth closed his eyes, gritting his teeth. Why had the guards let her pass into his rooms? Of course, he probably needn’t have wondered—as he was realizing, Nahan could be very persuasive.

  #

  D’Naa had spent her week well, working nearly every night, travelling up and down the sides of the palace, honing her Verdant skills, learning to avoid patrols. She had performed such exercises back home, but she had never enjoyed them as much—nor had she realized just how necessary they were. Her ability to protect her people depended on her mastery of her Aether. She couldn’t afford to be as clumsy as she had been a week before—she couldn’t miss Hern when she threw at him, and she couldn’t move as slowly as she had when escaping.

  Verdant was not a rope, and couldn’t extend very far. However, it could hold her weight at lengths up to about ten feet, and she made use of that ability. Now, if she had to escape, she could drop down in ten-foot bursts, latching on at each increment then lowering herself with blasts of Verdant. She also used the vines t
o swing from the bottom of balconies, speeding her progression from side to side.

  All in all, she was very proud of herself. The view no longer disoriented her, though she still found it beautiful. The wind almost seemed to speed her along, rather than just chilling her, and she made the trip to Hern’s seventh-floor rooms in a fraction of the time it had taken a week before.

  She paused by the balcony, however. Where were the guards? Ever since her attack a week before, there had been four men stationed on the balcony—powerful Amberite Bonds. She’d been worried about being able to defeat them quietly and still get to Hern. Where were they.

  Suspicious, she lowered herself slowly to the balcony. And there, standing on the other side of the main chamber, beyond the balcony doors, stood her target, Emperor Hern…being embraced by a completely naked Nahan.

  D’Naa stood, stunned for a moment, before realizing what she was seeing. She’d been told that easterners were more liberal than her own people, but… .

  She blushed as she saw Hern turn in Nahan’s shameful embrace. Then, however, her shame turned to anger. So he was just pretending at the ball! It’s not enough that he can line us all up like sheep at the market, he wants to seduce us as well!

  The knowledge was satisfying, but still infuriating. He had tried to play with her emotions, tried to make her wonder if he was really just an innocent man trapped by his station. He was smarter than people gave him credit—he had read her well enough to know just what type of man she’d be attracted to, then he had smoothly attempted to become that man.

  Her eyes narrowed, and her Verdant began to whip and curl around her arms. Of course, Hern’s slyness didn’t excuse Nahan. D’Naa couldn’t hear what the two were saying, but she could see the look on Nahan’s face. She hadn’t come to this unwillingly—in fact, knowing what little she did of Mahallen women, D’Naa suspected the opposite.

  Hern pushed Nahan away, and the Mahallen woman’s face grew even more determined. He’s doing it to her too, D’Naa realized. He’s playing with her. He knows exactly how her type reacts to rejection. It will just make her try harder.